A Friend to Lean On
by Yva J
Summary: Sometimes all a downtrodden angel needs is a compassionate human to lend them an ear. Andrew and Monica learn this after faced with tragedy. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

_a/n: I was a fairly active TBAA writer several years ago, but stopped when I started writing my book. This is a short story, it's about how sometimes angels can get help from people. It was written several years ago, but it is one that means a great deal to me._

_I hope you enjoy it, and reviews are love. I updated the file in the wake of Kitten Kisses' wonderful review. I did remove the last line, because it did come across cheesy. Thanks to Kitten Kisses for the magnificant review and I hope that everyone reading does enjoy the updated file.

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**A Friend to Lean On**

By: Yva J.

The waves lapped along the shoreline as Andrew sat staring despondently down at his hands. He had prayed so much during the past few days for a sense of closure, but nothing seemed to be able to take away the emptiness he carried in his heart.

It was no question, the Angel of Death's fragile heart had been broken yet again; this time he was unable to cope with the pain he was carrying regarding yet another tragedy. He could feel the tears as they were streaming from beneath his eyes. All he was able to remember were sounds of screaming children as the intoxicated driver of a truck rammed into their school bus, the end result an explosion which jarred the entire small beach front community.

The experienced Angel of Death knew that most of these innocent children had died upon the impact, but some were still were in the critical care unit at area hospitals, the sounds of their screams thus making him walk away from a heartrending case that he had been on with Monica, Tess and Gloria, but one that he had abruptly walked away from. His compassionate nature would not allow him to stay there and constantly hear the cries of agony that seemed to emerge in the hospital's burn unit. Burns from the accident had critically injured these children, and their pain-filled cries upon getting treatment were far too much for him to bear.

These same screams almost seemed to resonate through his soul even after he had physically left the hospital. Now, he stared blankly at the water, the sounds of the waves rising and falling in steady tempo, and these appeared to offering him very little solace and comfort. Yet, his pain continued to emerge through his tears, his agonized cries drifting up the beach, and causing other beachgoers to stare irritably at him as he tried to get his wayward emotions under some sort of control. It was obvious that the feelings he carried were unstoppable.

As the sun had descended in the horizon, the angel looked up to see that the beach was quickly emptying and he began to rub his tearstained face with the palm of his hand. _Oh Father_, he thought miserably to himself, _I can't go on like this, please take me into your loving arms and help me heal._

Before an answer could even emerge from the heavens, Andrew suddenly felt that someone had approached and a gentle hand was now resting on his trembling, shoulders. He turned abruptly around half expecting to see Tess, Monica or even Gloria standing behind him; but what he did not expect to see was a woman who looked to be in her late sixties was now next to him, and she proceeded to shake out a large woolen blanket and wrapped it gently, but firmly around him.

She took a deep breath as she smiled gently down at him, and he looked up at where she was standing. The first thing he noticed about her was the scar that extended along one side of her face, the skin red and raw looking. As he tried to ignore the unusual appearance of the woman, he took in her other attributes, she was barely over five feet tall, and she had blondish brown hair, which was now filled with traces of graying highlights. Her blue-gray eyes seemed to be filled with concern as well as motherly worry that seemed to emanate her every action. She offered him a gentle smile, but the first thing he could not help but notice was that she did not seem to mind that people stared at her, in fact, it almost seemed to be a customary response that she received along with strange looks and wide-eyed stares.

Instead of responding to his stares, she slowly got down on the ground next to him, her soft hand reaching out, almost instinctively, and touching his shoulder, the feel of her touch like everything about her; soft and gentile.

When Andrew felt this, something in him broke down, and he covered his face with his hand, shook his head, as his sobs grew louder.

The woman, without even thinking, wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into a motherly embrace, her hand intuitively brushing his hair out from in front of his face, her warmth overpowering and allowing him to fully express the feelings he carried. "Just cry," she crooned softly to him, her voice filled with empathy. "Sometimes, crying is the best thing we can do to cope with the pain we carry in our hearts."

Andrew nodded as he continued to feel her brushing his hair. So often this gentle angel had done this for the humans he was sent to, yet this time, a compassionate human being was acting towards him in love and understanding that he had often displayed when he would be sent to comfort his assignments.

The woman continued to stroke his hair gently, her motherly eyes filled with a special brand of wisdom, that which came from life experiences, and it offered her a gentle, yet firm grasp on her emotions and feelings. She continued to hold him tightly in her arms, the angel now weeping uncontrollably. "Shhh," she cajoled him gently, her wrinkled hand stroking his hair. "Enough crying now, it's time for you to talk. You have been sitting here all afternoon, crying. What is it, young man, what has made you so unhappy?"

Andrew could feel the lump in his throat, but he could feel his now human body beginning to warm as he felt the blanket, which now blocked the cool late summer air from encasing him. Now, this woman was holding him, but he did not know who she was or where she came from. All he knew was that his pain was intense, and now this empathetic human wanted to be there for him, she wanted to help him find the solace and the beauty in the simplest of things. He shook his head, but looked at her. "I don't think you would understand."

"Perhaps not, but you'd be surprised with how much I do understand," the woman said with a wave of her aged hand, but instead of elaborating on this, she continued to speak. "My name is Delores."

"Andrew."

Delores looked at him, her smile warm, and the wisdom that was concealed in her eyes, indescribable. The angel could see that somewhere in the recesses of her heart, this woman really possessed the wisdom that perhaps even he did not fully comprehend. Yet, instead of speaking to her about his problems, he remained silent as she smiled weakly and her attention diverted; this time back to the water, but she still managed to hold the angel in a comforting embrace.

"I used to come here everyday. There's always been a sense of newness in watching the waves crashing against the shoreline. It is almost been like a revitalization of emotions and feelings. Is that why you have sat here as still as a statue? You were just staring out at the waves as they were beckoning you to a truth that was uniquely their own."

"I-I don't know," Andrew said softly, all the while he was looking down at his lap, the tears streaming from beneath his soft green eyes.

Delores nodded, and could feel the breeze against her and she shuddered ever so slightly, but instead of focusing on her own problems, she looked back over at him. "My goodness, it's getting late, and I suppose I really should be getting home, but I cannot go just yet, there seems to be someone who needs me."

"I-I'm fine," Andrew said softly, his voice indicative of someone who would like more than anything to prove to themselves that they really felt fine and were not trying to pretend that everything was OK.

"You think you can fool me, young man?" Delores smiled gently at him. "Do you know how many times in my life someone has said 'I'm fine'? Yet, they're breaking apart like china that shatters against a tiled floor. Andrew, tell me truthfully, how are you?"

The angel looked at her. "I've never really been used to telling people my problems," he offered weakly, his voice cracking.

"Let me guess, you think that if you tell me, that you will somehow overburden me with the difficulties of youth?" Delores smiled gently at him. "You won't."

Andrew contemplated her words for a few moments and then nodded. "I try to help people, Delores."

"I know, I can see that you have a love in your eyes that most probably overlook. You're a gentle soul, Andrew, you're not afraid to cry, and you're not afraid to show people the extent of your pain, but do you know something?"

He shook his head.

"Sometimes, finding the strength to look out for oneself is the hardest thing to do," Delores smiled. "Look at me, I'm no beauty queen, I've been called ugly, have been shoved aside because I'm not physically pretty, but kindness speaks louder than physical appearance ever could. You're lucky, you have the beauty inside and out, and it shows, yet when you show the world that your feeling weak, they label you as such," She squeezed his hand. "Now, you're probably dismissing this as the words of a wayward old woman, but I noticed you even when the other people were laughing, and I saw your pain even when they had walked passed without saying so much as a word. You see the beauty in the waves as they lap against the shoreline; they see a place to hang ten. Now, tell me, please, what has made you so sad?"

"I saw something happen that hurt so much," Andrew began. "An accident."

"The school bus?" Delores asked almost anticipating his responses.

"Yes," came the soft answer.

"You wondered if there was not something you could have done to prevent loss of life," she shook her head sadly. "Andrew, believe me, there was nothing you could have done to prevent what had happened, but to have witnessed this must have been so horrible for you. I can see why you cried, sometimes I wish I could."

"You do?" He asked softly, his voice cracking.

"Yes, I do, see, when you look at me, you see a woman who is deformed, you see someone who once knew what it felt to be called 'beautiful', but now I can be grateful to be alive, to have this gift, that the heavens blessed me with. Sure, I cried when people called me names. Yet, they didn't know why I look this way."

Andrew looked at her, and beneath the physical appearance of this woman, he could see the courage emanating in her words. "What happened to you, Delores?"

"Did you ever read about the great fire of 48?" Delores asked. "It was the biggest news event around these parts during that time."

The angel shook his head.

"I was there," she began. "I was ten-years old at the time, and it was late at night and I was sitting in my room staring out the window at the goings on in the street. My parents, my younger brothers and I lived in a run down hovel just above the local tavern here in town. Today, it's one of those always-opened Laundromats. But, back then there was a tavern downstairs and every night, you could hear the men on the street speaking in a language that was unfitting to children, but it provided me a greater education in the colorfulness of the English language than I could get in any school." She smiled weakly at the memory, but continued speaking, her voice filled with melancholy sentiments, but also a trace of humor.

"Anyway, there had been a number of events that had happened during this time; the war had ended a few years before in Europe, the men had returned from the trenches, and I remember that night when I was watching through the window as the men outside were placing bets on anything that would move. It was right down to which cat would knock down a garbage can or which dog would eat the last meatball from the local take out restaurant. People seemed to have lost their lust for life, drowning it in liquor and bad jokes."

Andrew continued to listen as she spoke, his troubles momentarily forgotten as she continued her story.

"It was late when a man came into the tavern, his voice carried through the house, and my parents had to go down and complain to the owner about the problems with noise. My brothers were in bed down the hall in their small room, I was still in my room watching out the window at the street."

Delores could feel the tears in her eyes as she continued to tell the despondent angel about this painful part of her life. She stared out at the water, the expression in her eyes hard to read.

"The fire started within minutes, the entire street like one big tinderbox. I had never seen anything like this, but somewhere in the tavern, the fire started, and it took one building and then the next and the next and the next. It was like a game of dominos that one would fall and then the next would and so on. I don't remember too much that happened, I could hear my two brothers screaming as the flames practically swallowed the house. I could hear people screaming all around me, but I felt completely powerless." She took a deep breath and shrugged her shoulders. "When I heard my brothers crying in their room and could see the wall of flames in front of me, I did not even think twice about myself, I rushed through the flames, my face burning like nothing in the world, but my intention was to help my brothers."

"What happened to them?" He asked.

"I was too late," she said softly. "I lost both of my brothers that night, I became the scorn of the town, I was deformed, my brothers were dead, I was unable to save their lives, and I felt so helpless. I felt like God had punished me with this," she waved her hand next to her face as an indication of her external appearance. "From that day on, my father rejected me, my mother loathed me, and I grew up feeling like I was the ugliest creature on Earth."

Andrew looked at her. "You're not."

"Thank you, but I learned some years ago that beauty comes from within," she smiled gently. "I learned that the reason my parents were angry was not because I failed, but because they felt helpless for what happened to all of us. Maybe in seeing this accident, you felt the same way they did."

He looked at her, "I could have done more, I just know it."

Delores shook her head. "No, just because you see something doesn't mean you're at fault for it happening, it just happens, and somehow we have to find the courage to go on."

As she spoke, he could feel the tears streaming down his face, and rather than stop them or try to tell her that he could see the truth in her words, he took a deep breath and released it slowly.

"Andrew, why do you feel like you did not do enough or that you are at fault?" She asked. "Were you the man driving the truck?"

"No, I was…" his voice trailed as he shook his head.

"Whatever you were, Andrew, and the reason you were there was because God probably wanted you to be there. His plan is not always our plan, but we have to learn to trust that He is there, and that He has a reason for these things which happen in our lives." She reached over and touched his face, his unhappy tears moistening her fingers. "Do you believe in God?"

"Yes," came his soft answer.

Delores looked out across the water; she could see the waves still washing up along the shoreline. "He creates a lot of beauty, even in the midst of tragedy and pain."

"He gave you some extra strength those years ago, didn't He?" Andrew asked softly.

"For the most part, but for many years it took some extra time and effort on my part to realize it," she said softly.

"How did you eventually discover it?"

"A few years ago, I started volunteering at the burn unit at our local hospital, I would see children like me coming into this place, and they would be so scared. All they needed was someone to hold their hands, to be there and tell them they were beautiful," she smiled weakly. "It was at that moment that I realized the importance of me being there for them, and talking to them. If they could see me, and see that I made it, maybe it would give them the courage to try. Sometimes, children just want someone to take their hands, squeeze them and tell them that they are loved, that they are special. Sometimes, they have angels watching over them, and sometimes…"

"…They have you," Andrew nodded as he reached for her hand and when she offered it freely, he smiled weakly at her. "Thank you, Delores."

"You're welcome," she smiled, but within seconds, he began to glow, his hand still holding hers and she nodded as though all the things about him had become clear to her. She continued to hold his hand, her eyes filled with joy as she regarded him, the change in him completely obvious to her and she found her smile matching his.

"Did you know who you were helping?" He asked softly, the glow never ceasing, and his eyes were filled with vitality, something that seemed almost new and distinctive in him.

"No," she smiled weakly, "but what does it matter, we're all children of God, whether one is a person like me or an angel like you."

The Angel of Death nodded. "Yes, this is true."

The elderly lady looked into the green eyes of the angel. "You will never be alone, Andrew, not when you have someone who loves you as much as He does. No one wants to see you filled with sadness, not when you are a part of the vision of hope that this world so desperately needs. You won't forget, will you?"

"No, Delores, I won't ever forget," he stood up and was surprised when she followed suit; he helped her as she struggled to make it to her feet.

Once they were both standing, she looked at him. "What are you going to do now?"

"I have to go back, I am going to help the children as you described," he said.

"Then you are a wonderful angel, Andrew, the depiction that I always imagined, even as a little girl. You know there was something else I saw that day, something I never spoke of. It was the day my brothers died."

"What?"

"Well, before I could get to my brothers, I saw a man coming into the apartment, and he was dressed in a suit and tie, looked very handsome. He was dressed in the same fashion as my grandfather when he would go and attend services at the county church. At any rate, this man first went to my brothers and then I found myself unable to get outside. It was then that someone came and took me in their arms, and carried me out of the fire. I was severely burned, but the man who had helped me, sat beside me when I went though the horrible burn treatment. Just before he left, he told me some words that I won't ever forget again. He said, 'God loves you; Delores, and He will always carry you through these terrible challenges you face. Sometimes, He will send you an angel to help you. He did, because you were that angel, Andrew. I may be old, but I have the memory of an elephant." She smiled broadly and after a second his smile matched her own.

"You knew the whole time that that was me?" He asked.

The old woman smiled and nodded. "I knew the minute I laid eyes on you. An Angel of Death keeping a little girl company, but it was during that time that you became my Angel of Life, Andrew. When I saw you sitting all alone here this afternoon, I knew that I would have the chance after forty years to give back to you, that exact same feeling of self-worth, which you gave to me those many years ago."

Andrew nodded and once the elderly woman embraced him one last time, he finally understood something very profound about the events of that day. Sometimes, the Father answers people's prayers directly, by directly getting involved in their lives, but sometimes He sends someone else to provide an answer that they so desperately needed.

Sighing with a new sense of contentedness, the Angel of Death remained on the beach for a few more moments, he watched as she walked slowly away. Sighing with a new sense of determination, he resolved to return to his assignment and follow Delores' loving and compassionate example.

A few moments later, as he was leaving the beach, he thanked God for the gift of this answered prayer.


	2. Chapter 2

_a/n: This and the next chapter was written today and is being added a great big thank you to Kitten Kisses. Your feedback has been some of the most encouraging that I have ever received on this site (or anywhere for that matter), and I am so totally grateful to you!_

_You made the suggestion about Monica and Andrew's friendship and Andrew mentioning Delores to her. I took things a bit further and wrote that Monica meets up with Delores. This and the next chapter to this story is for you. Thank you so much!_

_My settings on this site have been changed so now anonymous reviews should be accepted. Sorry it's taken so long for me to get that fixed up. _

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**Part 2: Monica's Angel**

The café was small, empty and decorated with 1950's flair. Monica sat in the corner booth slowly stirring the coffee that was placed before her. For the first time in a very long time the auburn headed angel did not have any appetite for it. In fact, she was completely beside herself with worry. Her head was bowed dejectedly as she tried to remember the events leading up to the assignment going completely wrong.

"Tell me again what happened, baby," her supervisor said gently and the younger angel raised her head for a split second and then lowered it again.

"It was terrible, Tess. I tried to reach my assignment, but he wouldn't listen. I failed, and then after the accident, Gloria finally managed to reach him. The worst thing was that Andrew just walked away after he took the wee ones home. He said that he had no desire to continue when all he was seeing was devastation and grief." As she spoke, her voice was etched in sorrow. "It was my assignment who drove the truck, he was drunk and walked away with barely a scratch."

"I know, baby," Tess said. "That boy's going to have problems when he gets out of the hospital. He will probably have to serve time for several charges of manslaughter. He will have to live with his conscience in that regard. You did every thing you could, Angel Girl."

Monica sighed and nodded as the door to the café opened and closed, a small jingling bell announcing the arrival of another person. "I just don't know what is going to happen to Andrew, Tess, he was totally devastated by all of this."

"As were you," Tess said softly, but after several moments, someone approached the table and cleared their throat.

"Excuse me," an older woman's voice emerged, "I don't mean to interrupt or intrude, but I couldn't help overhearing what you were saying. My name is Delores and I was just wondering if you were speaking of a young man about six feet tall, with green eyes and blonde hair?"

"Yes," Monica said and looked up into the wrinkled face of the woman who was now standing next to the table. "Do you have any idea where he went?"

"Well, I spoke to him about twenty minutes ago. He was sitting on the beach alone about a mile away from here," she offered freely. "I wasn't sure where his friends had gone, but I figured that he would be happy to see them right about now."

"I'll go check on him, and bring him back if he's ready," Tess said and stood up.

The woman nodded, as the supervisor left the table as Monica raised her head. The chimes over the door sounded as Tess left the café. Once she was gone and the door had closed, she continued. "May I sit down? These old legs of mine aren't all that reliable anymore. I do well if I can stand in line at the market."

"Please," Monica offered. "How was Andrew when you talked to him?"

"He was very sad, but you know, sometimes people are at a loss as to what to do about events of this kind," the woman said softly. "That hopelessness is a very human trait, I've felt it many a day."

"He just got up and left, just walked out," Monica said softly. "I had never seen him that angry before."

"Maybe what you interpreted as being anger; wasn't. Perhaps, if anything, it was sorrow. He didn't want to show you that he was close to breaking down. Men are strange that way. They don't want to show emotion, they want to be strong in case we happen to break down and cry ourselves."

Monica nodded, her thoughts immediately on China, the young poet who had died on the streets before she could help her. "I remember experiencing something like what you are describing," she said nodding. "Andrew tried to comfort me once when I was sad and I didn't want to listen to him. My hopelessness was so immense and I really believed that God had abandoned me."

Delores nodded. "I think he felt the same way earlier today. He loves all people so deeply, and the more one loves, the greater is the risk of getting hurt. Andrew was hurt by what happened today. I am under the impression that he cares deeply for you and would not wish for you struggle with that which is out of your control. I would guess that he left you and that other lady to cope with his own crisis of faith. He probably needed the time alone to sort all of this out."

"You know Andrew, don't you?" Monica asked softly. "I mean; you've met him before."

"Yes," Delores said nodding. "I recognized him on sight. I know that he is an angel."

Monica nodded as she stared down at the coffee that was swirling around in the cup. "You helped him?"

"I didn't do much, I just talked to him, just as he talked to me when I was a little girl." Within minutes she had related the very same events to Monica that she had shared with Andrew on the beach.

"That's quite an experience," she said as Delores finished speaking. She picked up the mug and brought it to her lips. As she sipped it, she grimaced. From across the table, Delores could tell that the angel had obviously been sitting there for a time, the coffee had gone cold.

"That looks like mud," she said bluntly as she regarded the contents. Without warning, she abruptly stood up and reached for the cup. "Here, let me take care of this for you." She slowly made her way to the counter. "Hey, Bernice, could you dump this mud and refill the cup?" She dropped five quarters on the counter and watched as the woman with the wiry red hair grabbed the cup, took it to the kitchen and returned several seconds later. Behind her, Delores could suddenly hear the sounds of the coffee pot percolating. Instead of returning with the dirty cup, she grabbed a clean one and put it on the counter.

"You know refills are free," Bernice said smiling as she motioned towards the coffee maker. "It'll be ready in a minute."

"I know they are, but a refill generally implies that you pour it into the old cup," Delores said with a casual wave of her hand. "Go ahead and take the money to cover her tab." She watched as Bernice pocketed the coins.

"You know that one coffee costs seventy-five cents," she complained.

"I know, but you are sometimes short when we get together to play bridge, so now you will have enough," Delores smiled impishly at her friend, her thoughts on the Wednesday nights when they would play cards and other games for pennies. "How long has that lady been sitting there?" She asked, her words emerging barely audible as she motioned towards Monica's slumped form.

"About half an hour or so, maybe longer. She came in wanting a mocha latte, something I had never heard of before. It's probably one of those big city drinks like you get at those chain places. Finally she settled for a normal cup of coffee, but the poor thing didn't even take a sip of it. She's just been sitting there stirring it and lulling herself into a trance. I thought she was going to cry. Then her friend came in and they were talking for the longest time until you showed up."

Delores grabbed two of the small plastic creamer containers and some sugar cubes. "That's all that happened?" She asked as she pocketed them.

"Yeah, the bus accident has pretty much kept the townsfolk away from here," Bernice said motioning around the empty café. "I don't blame them though. Tonight the reverend will be holding a special service at the church. It's informal but I think it will help everyone cope with the shock of today's events. It's times like this when we really could use the spiritual help, an angel or something celestial."

Delores looked at her. "Maybe the angels are already here and they are just as heartbroken as we are."

"You always say stuff like that;" Bernice said smiling wistfully.

"You know my story, probably better than anyone else does," Delores said. "It was your parents who sort of watched out for me back when I was a kid."

"I remember, you always had a way of getting candies and sweets from them," Bernice said smiling. "Afterwards we'd meet at my tree house and divide them up."

Delores nodded. "That was a time, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, and you overcame the tragedy of it, just like I hope this town does," Bernice said softly.

"We will, God's watching over all of us, and He will watch over those kids and their families, too." As she spoke, Delores reached across the counter and squeezed her friend's hand. "Just wait and see. Healing starts within, you know."

Bernice nodded as she returned to the back and returned seconds later with a steaming hot pot of coffee. She carefully filled the cup with the hot black colored liquid and watched as Delores picked up the cup. "You'd better get going, that lady over there needs her angel."

"Thanks Bernice." She slowly made her way back over to the table. "Here you go, now try this. It's fresh; I even heard it percolating in the back."

Monica accepted the cup. "Thank you."

"Glad to help," the response was quick. "Your name is Monica, right?"

"Yes," she said as she began to stir the coffee.

Delores placed the creamer packages and the two sugar cubes on the table. "I didn't know how you took your coffee, so I took the liberty of bringing a bit of everything."

Monica nodded as she reached for a package of sugar. "I appreciate your help."

Delores watched as the angel added both of the sugar cubes and then one of the creams, but when she did not take a sip, she looked at her. "You know, that coffee was meant for you to drink, not meditate on."

Monica smiled weakly. "I wonder who the angel is now," she mused.

Delores nodded as understanding washed over her. This lovely Irish lady was an angel too. "It's you, you're the angel," she said matter-of-factly. "I'm just an old woman who somehow never lost her faith in humanity."

"I have," Monica nodded as shame washed over her.

"I know, just like your friend did," Delores said. "Somehow I had the feeling when I heard you and that other lady talking. You and Andrew share a bond and somehow God has brought you together to work or share good and not so good times. There are no accidents."

"I beg your pardon," Monica whispered. "You make us sound like a couple."

"I don't think angels can be couples," she began. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but, the friendship you share is even more profound than romance. The loyalty that you have towards one another is an example of the true and powerful nature of God's gift. No one can take that bond away from you, because God gave it to you. Your friendship does not end because Andrew becomes sad, nor does it when you have a crisis of faith." She smiled as she leaned over and whispered. "Angels work together as a team, just as Bernice and I work together. Sometimes Bernice just puts up with me, but it's nice to have someone like that in my life. Can you imagine going about your days without Andrew?"

"No, I can't," Monica looked at her.

Delores shook her head. "You're afraid that this sort of experience will make the Angel of Death doubt his good works. I think his faith is much stronger than any of us realize."

"You're very wise," Monica mused. "But what makes you so certain?"

"My age," Delores offered freely. "I'm probably not as old as you, I mean; you are an angel. I've been around the block a few times here on earth and have only that to go on."

"If you must know the truth, I don't feel very angelic right now. Generally the things you are telling me are the things that I should be telling you," Monica whispered.

"What I'm telling you are the words that Andrew told me all those years ago. They are angelic wisdom that I carried for the last sixty years. Since Andrew is not here to tell you these things, it is up to me to convey his message."

"You remember sixty years ago?" Monica asked.

"As though it were yesterday," Delores smiled. "I understand how you feel. I remember this one song from my youth, it was sung to me in Sunday school. It was this little children's ditty, a round, sort of like 'Row, row, row, your boat'. Anyway, it talked about when angels weep and what the significance of it is for the world. The tears of an angel fell on the earth like rain, but a rainbow appeared and that was the promise from God that this too shall pass." She reached across the table and took Monica's hand. "The words I speak are not mine, they are Andrew's. They are sixty-years-old, but they are as true today as they were back then and do bear repeating. I know that a school bus full of children dying is a terrible tragedy for all of us. Right now, this town needs angels to offer us hope. It would be far too great a responsibility if we were expected to comfort someone as close to God as you are. Right now, all human beings can do is pray and keep the faith that God is present with us and has not left in this time of need."

"But you are comforting me," she said softly.

"Perhaps, but I still wish I could cry," Delores said gently as she stood up and looked at the angel. "Sometimes God knows what we need without us fully realizing it. I would imagine that He recognizes that trait in His angels as well and sends them what they need when they need it."

Monica hesitantly took a sip of the coffee and when she replaced the cup, Delores reached down and patted her shoulder. "I truly need to go now, will you be alright?"

Monica nodded. "I think so. Thank you."

"Take care beautiful angel," she said as she walked away from the table. Once she had waved to Bernice, she slowly left the café.


	3. Chapter 3

_a/n: This is the final little section to this story. It started out as a one shot, but thanks to Kitten Kisses for the wonderful review that insipired this story to become one of my favorite Monica and Andrew attempts. _

_I hope that you enjoy reading this. I am rather pleased with teh ending and hope that you will all enjoy the additions._

_Take care, and reviews are love.

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**Part 3: Andrew & Monica's Parallels**

By this time, Monica had emptied the cup that Delores had brought to her. She glanced skyward and stared at the ceiling for several moments. "Thank you, Father, for sending someone who can remind us of what is important." She smiled as she realized to what extent the coffee had really hit the spot. She could feel herself relaxing and the sense of anxiety leaving her. Bernice came over to the table and retrieved the cup at that moment, her abrupt voice breaking into her thoughts.

"She's really something, isn't she?" She asked as she wiped the table with a rag and regarded the angel through gentle eyes.

"Yes, she is," Monica said with an affirming nod.

"You want another cup?" Bernice asked.

"No, thank you, I sort of promised my friends that I would cut back and only drink one cup per sitting," Monica said honestly.

"It's a good idea, especially when it is so late in the day," Bernice said. "Insomnia stinks, I know, I've had it for years. Oh well, if you change your mind about the cup; just give a shout to the back, my name's Bernice. I've got a mountain of work to do back there, and since you look the trusting sort, I'm sure everything will be OK here until I get done. Delores already took care of your tab."

"Thank you," Monica offered.

"Just do me a favor, if another customer happens to pop in, just give a holler in the back. I don't always hear the chimes, especially if the dishwasher is running," she said. "Also it would be great if you would say when you're leaving so that I can get back into the dining area before you go."

Monica nodded. "Of course."

Bernice went to the back and after about five minutes of sitting alone, the door opened and closed, the chimes filling the otherwise quiet air. She cast a quick glance to the back where Bernice was still working, the woman's attention obviously not on the fact that a customer had come in. She turned around and when she recognized that it was Andrew, she smiled as he ambled over to her, his hands stuffed in the pocket of his jacket.

She waited for him to sit down across from her and instead of calling out to Bernice, she looked outside through the pain glass windows and recognized Tess and Gloria both leaning up against the Cadillac and waiting. Gloria had apparently finished her assignment in record time and it was time for the angels to move on.

"Hey, Monica," he said softly as he sat down across from her. "How are you doing?"

"I was worried about you, Andrew," she offered honestly.

"I know, Tess fed me the riot act about making you and her worry so needlessly," he said smiling weakly. "You know how she sometimes likes to play mother hen for her two 'angel babies'. It's sort of like a family of sorts. A family within the family of God."

"I was afraid that you might have lost your faith," she admitted softly. "You were so angry when you left. You said the very same things I was feeling."

"Yeah," he mused as he began to fiddle with his pocket watch. "I suppose in hindsight, I did say some pretty terrible things. I was just so broken up about everything. I mean; kids losing their lives in the hands of a drunk, it is quite a chuck to swallow. You know it always happens when I see the senselessness of people's actions," Andrew said shaking his head. "I guess I needed some time to think about everything on my own. I didn't mean to scare you with all of that though."

"Are you at least feeling any better?" She asked.

"I'm still a little bit sad, but otherwise, I think I do feel a bit better," he said smiling bravely. "The time did do me some good. I also met and spoke with someone who helped greatly."

"Yes, me too," she said nodding.

"It's truly amazing how the Father sometimes sends people to help a couple of angels when things feel so out of balance, isn't it?" He asked.

Monica nodded and smiled as her friend continued to speak. "I truly wish you could have met her. She's the kind of person who can renew one's faith in humanity through a few simple words."

"Is her name Delores, per chance?" Monica asked, her brown eyes shining.

"Yes, but how did you know?" He asked.

The angel smiled. "I'm guessing that after she left you at the beach, she decided to come here."

"That's strange, she told me she was going home," Andrew said.

"In a way this is her home," Monica explained. "Delores has a special bond to this place as well as to her friend Bernice. That's the lady that runs the café. I suppose it is similar to the special bond I have with you."

"We've always been friends," he said.

"Except at the beginning," Monica mused. "Anyway, Delores said that a friendship is no accident, that it happens as a gift from God. It is during these difficult times that we discover how meaningful they can truly be. Perhaps those times when I give up on people, I find myself leaning on the friendship we share. I know that it seems odd for me to say so, but in the wake of tragedy, I am reminded of how important it is. I realize too that I should not ever take it for granted," she paused as she looked down at the flat tabletop. "Andrew, do you remember when we first met?"

"Yes," he nodded. "But why are you bringing this up, you're not jealous anymore?"

"No, I'm not, but its because I'm not afraid of you taking something away from me. You have selflessly given far too much for me to be afraid of losing something. Back then, I was afraid that you would take Tess away from me and that I would be left alone. At the time I didn't realize how damaging these emotions were, but after we went on a few assignments together, I realized that I couldn't imagine working alongside any other angel. I love working with you and Tess. Perhaps God sent Delores to remind me of that. But, Andrew, how did she help you?"

"She reminded me that being an Angel of Death is an honor and a wonderful opportunity to share God's love. Perhaps those people who see me and survive the encounter didn't forget," Andrew shrugged his shoulders. "I thought that perhaps they might have, but she met me sixty years ago and still remembered. She's been applying the lessons from that encounter to her own life all this time. The fire affected her appearance, but it did not affect her heart. When she told me that she remembered, it gave me hope and reminded me of God's love. I know that sometimes even an angel can forget these things. I don't always recover through the words of another angel, but rather through the actions of a person. It's strange, but I don't think that Tess could have helped us tonight, not in the way that Delores did."

Monica looked at him. "Perhaps you're right," she said with a slow nod. "That's sort of what she related to me as well."

"It looks as though we have met a human angel of sorts," Andrew said smiling. "Perhaps that is why the Father wants us to move on, because He knows that Delores has everything under control. This town will heal because of the strength of that one person."

"I'm glad we met her, its people like that who really give me hope for the world," Monica said.

"Yes," Andrew said and glanced towards the kitchen where Bernice was working, "and I think Delores' friend will help as well."

Monica and Andrew simultaneously stood up and when they were on their feet, she embraced her friend. "Next time we pass through town, I'll have to find out what brand of coffee Bernice uses, it's divine." Before leaving, she called to the back. "Bernice, we're leaving."

The woman waved as Andrew smiled. Monica is back to normal, he thought as they left the café, the sounds of the chimes clinging over their heads. For her part, Bernice came out of the kitchen and stood at the counter and watched as the bright red Cadillac drove away.

Without saying a word, she went over to the glass door, locked it turned the sign to read 'closed' and once more retreated back to the kitchen. "All in a day's work," she whispered under her breath, a secret smile crossing her lips as she reached her locker, grabbed her coat, and put it on.

The End.


End file.
